


Creatively and Firmly

by QuincyConnally



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: BDSM, Bondage, F/M, Punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 20:36:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19180924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuincyConnally/pseuds/QuincyConnally
Summary: Queen Glory punishes Deathbringer for disobedience.





	Creatively and Firmly

It was sundown by the time I made it back to my treehouse, and I had the worst headache. Nobody said managing two tribes in one place with tensions like a heap of dry timbers was going to be anything other than a headache, but today had been particularly unfun. Nighttime meant a few hours of rest before I had to get up and do it all again, so my queenly duties were over for the moment … except one.

Toward the back of the treehouse was a curtain of large palm fronds concealing an alcove. I went through, to where a great lump of a NightWing lay on his belly. His front talons were bound together with loops of vine, then tied with a longer vine to a peg on the opposite wall. He couldn’t see me come in because of the woven leaves over his eyes, but when he heard my footsteps, he, still facing the wall, said, “Good evening, Your Majesty. Was your day productive and enriching? I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to tidy up while you were out …”

“Deathbringer,” I said. “How am I gonna learn to control that smart mouth of yours?”

I paced around the room and surveyed my selection of … let’s call them disciplining tools. Not for the first time, I reflected on the irony that the RainWings are the only tribe in Pyrrhia that don’t keep prisoners, when no other tribe seems to have access to the sheer diversity of ways to hurt prisoners that we do. My vine whips were just the start of it, varying sizes and species tapering to fine points at their tips. They stung like wasps to be hit by, but didn’t leave any marks on a dragon’s scales. Deathbringer and I both preferred if every dragon in the tribes didn’t know just by looking at him what we got up to. Then there were the other plants—plants with spines that dug in under your scales and got stuck there for days, plants with juices that burned like venom, plants with spores that’d have you never stop itching. And then of course there were the moving things, all manner of wriggling, stinging, biting little creepy-crawlies, which I kept in stone jars. In short, whenever I wanted to hurt Deathbringer, I could always find a new way to do it.

This time I took one of the smaller, narrower whips. It never hurt to start with a warm-up. I took the whip by both ends and snapped it between my talons a couple times. Deathbringer’s expression remained cool under his leafy blindfold. Finally I raised the whip over my head and cracked it across his back. His reaction was instant, muscles tensing from his tail to the tips of his claws, and the smallest showing of his gritted teeth—but only a tiny, suppressed groan escaped his throat. I raised the whip and cracked him again, and again, rhythmically, dispassionately. He tensed, and grit his teeth, and held in his grunts of pain, but over time his stony front started to falter. I saw his jaw begin to slacken, and more pained noises came out of him. I tried not to show that I was getting out of breath.

“Will it just be the whip today, then?” he said. “I understand. You must be tired. We can’t always be at the top of our torture game.”

“Oh, this?” I said. “This is for talking back to me at breakfast this morning. We’re just getting started, don’t worry.”

He was goading me, of course. He was always goading me. Every bit of sass, every sarcastic quip, every time he snatched a mango out of my claws or “accidentally” dropped a coconut on my head was an invitation for me to drag him in here and do exactly what I was doing now. This time, however, I had something to be _really_ mad about. A SkyWing messenger had arrived and told me that another SkyWing, a son of some noble or other close to Queen Ruby, was missing, and that they were searching the mountains but suspected, for whatever reason, that he might have come to the rainforest. I agreed to keep an eye out for him, then gathered a squad of RainWings and told them to quietly and stealthily search for this SkyWing and bring him to the NightWing village to wait for me. It was then that I noticed Deathbringer also there, giving me that I’m-about-to-do-something-I-shouldn’t look.

“No,” I said firmly. “You stay here. I want you near me.”

So of course the next time I looked he was gone, and next I heard he had found the SkyWing and dragged him to the village by his ears. (“He made a fuss about coming,” was all Deathbringer would say on the matter.) No sooner had the other SkyWings arrived than the boy went crying to his mother about how the mean NightWing mistreated him. It took me nearly an hour to smooth it all over. I didn’t let on that I had told Deathbringer to stay put—I didn’t want it to look like I couldn’t control my own subjects—but I did apologize for his excessive force. Even so, before they all departed, the mother came up close to me and said, “If one of my servants acted this way, I’d have him out on his tail before sunset.”

When they were gone, I brought Deathbringer to the treehouse, tied him up, and let him sit for the rest of the day.

I put the whip back in its place and climbed onto Deathbringer’s back. Again I looked over all the stinging, burning, and numbing plants, but they didn’t seem right for this occasion. Tonight called for something moving.

I picked up one of the jars, carefully reached inside, and lifted out a writhing hornet nearly the size of my fist.

“It’s time for you to pay for the fiasco with the SkyWings,” I said.

“Fiasco?” he said. “With the SkyWings? I’m pretty sure stopping unwelcome dragons who enter our kingdom without permission is _most_ of my job description.”

I held the hornet close to where his wings met his spine. Its stinger pierced the flesh between his scales. I could feel the shock reverberate through his body. His wings shot out and convulsed. I held the hornet in place for eight heartbeats, then another three, before I pulled it away.

“Right,” I said, “because that simpering mommy’s-boy scarcely older than a dragonet was _clearly_ such a dire threat. Did you hear why it was he came here in the first place? It was to hide from the awful dragon his parents had chosen for him to marry. Beats me why he didn’t just fly into the mountains, or some island out at sea, or Possibility, or the Scorpion Den, but maybe he thought the rainforest was somewhere they wouldn’t think to look.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to stop and ask the _next_ potential assassin or scout for an advancing army whether he’s really just a victim of unfortunate matchmaking.”

I stabbed him again with the hornet. His breathing was starting to get heavy, and his groans less contained. Eight heartbeats, then three, then another two before I pulled back again. He sounded like he’d just surfaced from being dragged into the ocean.

“Don’t you get it?” I said. “You defied me, Deathbringer! I told you what to do and you did the opposite! Did you think I’d be impressed? Did you think it was a secret test, like when I said, ‘You stay here,’ that was code for, ‘Beat my RainWings to the target, and if you could rough him up a bit while you’re out there, that’d be great’? You embarrassed me in front of another tribe! I had a handle on the situation, and I don’t need you constantly trying to prove that you’re the best, and that you’re the only one who can protect me, because you’re not!”

I stabbed him once more. Eight heartbeats, then five, then that same length over again, then another five heartbeats just for the fun of it. His groans deflated into low sobs, and when I finally pulled away, he couldn’t help but let out a soft moan.

“Your Majesty … Please … I can’t wait any longer …”

That was what I was waiting for. I stuffed the hornet back in the jar, climbed off Deathbringer, and rolled him onto his back. It was plain to see what he meant—his appendage was rather comically sticking straight up, like the dorsal fin of a shark. I sat on his belly and ran my claws down his chest.

“I’ll teach you to obey your queen’s commands,” I growled.

My claws found a spot on his belly just in front of where I was sitting. I worked my claws underneath his scales, then with just a little push, my claws pierced the surface of his skin. His stomach hardened and shrank like it was trying to get away from me, while something else prodded me in the rear.

I planted my rear talons around his pelvis and lifted my hindquarters. I took the tip of him into the slit at the base of my tail. He felt already about to burst at the slightest stimulation. I arched my back and neck like a serpent, teasing him with gyrations of my hips, delighting in the way he twitched and quivered. I leaned my snout in next to his ear and said, “Who’s your queen?”

“You are,” he said.

I pressed my claws down a little harder. “Who’s your queen?”

“You are …”

“I am what?”

“Y-Your Majesty …”

And there it was. Sometimes it took a little more time, sometimes a little less, but he always turned to clay in my talons, annoying, back-talking, disobedient Deathbringer moaning and begging and mad with desire for me. With an arch of my back, I took him fully to the hilt. The foreplay was over—I rode him hard and fast, all the while kneading his belly with my claws, my every tug and push matched with a corresponding pulse or twitch inside me. He let out a loud gasp, and his body tensed from his clawtips to his core. I pushed every inch of him up into me until our midsections were pressed together, and I felt him unload with such force that his warmth hit my deepest walls.

I pulled my claws out of him, leaving ten needle-sized dots forming ten little droplets of blood. Him limpening inside me, I lied down with my chin on his chest and gently traced the ridges of his scales with one claw, listening to his steadying heartbeat and riding the rise and fall of his breaths. I thought again about the SkyWing who had none-too-subtly implied I should get rid of Deathbringer, and I thought about why that was never going to happen. Here, curled up on his toned muscles, I felt like nothing mattered outside this room. My two tribes always a scale’s breadth from killing each other, the many dragons who’d kill _me_ if they had a chance, all of them couldn’t have been further away just then. Here was the dragon who would let no harm come to me as long as he lived, and here with him I was secure, content, and very, very full. I thought about facing the NightWings as their queen without Deathbringer beside me, and when I did, I wanted to sink my claws in him again so that he would never get away from me.

But like _fire ants_ was I going to say any of that out loud!

“So,” he said. “Will that be all? Sentence served, right? May I go?”

I pulled myself off him with a wet snap.

“Nah,” I said. “I think you could use more time to think.”

“Very funny,” he said, but I just hopped to the floor and headed for the palm fronds.

“See you in the morning,” I said.

I untied him soon after I woke up the next day. Without a word, he shook out all his limbs, stretched, strolled out into the open and took flight. I didn’t see or hear from him again that day, which wasn’t really peculiar. Sometimes he liked to make a show of going off to sulk, like he thought I’d pine for him in his absence or something, but usually I was relieved to have some time to myself. His disappearing act had the potential to go on for days, which is why I wasn’t worried when the next day came and went, and the next, with no one in either village claiming to have seen him anywhere. It wasn’t until the end of the third day that, stepping into my treehouse after sundown, my head once again pounding from the day’s vexations, I felt a strong talon clasp my snout and a sharp blade press against my throat.

“Where’s that artery again? Oh, it’s so hard to remember …” said a voice in my ear. That’s when I noticed that the blade at my throat wasn’t a knife, it was a razor disk. _Deathbringer?_ It was definitely him. But what in the name of all the quetzals did he think he was _doing_?

“Your RainWing guards outside don’t know I’m in here. Let’s keep it that way, shall we?” _Are you sure they didn’t let you in because they trust you?_ I wanted to say, but somehow I knew he wasn’t lying. No one knew there was anyone except me in the treehouse right now. And if he could sneak in so easily, who else could?

“I’m going to remove my talon from your snout. It would be an _awful_ shame if you were to call out.” He let go of my snout, and the instant he did, I bared my fangs and snapped at him, trying to line them up for a venom shot to the eyeballs. He grabbed one of my horns with his free talon and, his full weight behind him, pinned my head to the floor so I couldn’t lift or turn it at all. I thrashed my wings and tail as hard as I could, but it was impossible to dislodge him.

“Now, now, that was pretty rude, don’t you think? I would so prefer if we could play nicely. Think of the fun we could have.”

He tossed the disk out of reach. Then, with one talon still on my horn and the other making its way down my flank, he carefully shifted his weight toward my backside. He reached his talon underneath my leg, and with just the slightest tug, I almost involuntarily raised my rear to meet him. Heat radiated across my scales, like scarabs crawling around under my skin. My whole body was quivering. I felt his meat press against me, and with a couple of jabs, he found his mark and pushed himself in.

When I was being beaten by Kestrel under the mountain, when I was Queen Scarlet’s decoration, even when I was bound and gagged on the NightWing volcano, never had I felt more powerless than I did in this moment. His weight on top of me felt like he was going to squeeze all my innards out like a squashed caterpillar. I couldn’t stop myself from crying aloud, and tears rolled down my snout. My claws dug into the floor hard enough to gouge long grooves in the wood. My vision blurred. Time felt slow. The sensation overtook me, pain and pleasure together overwhelming my mind.

Soon it all come to its zenith. My muscles pulsed and squeezed around him, and fluids gushed back against him. He pushed himself deep inside, and then both of us were still, muscles taut, as burst after burst of his warmth filled me. Then he started to go limp—and I did as well, my whole body lying flat underneath him, like a ragdoll. I could only sob softly. Slowly he pulled out of me, and then his weight lifted off, and I was free.

I whirled around to face him, but he was just sitting there, giving me the stupidest pleased-with-himself grin. “Oh my,” he said. “I’ve never seen _that_ much pink on you before. Oops, now it’s all going red …”

I smacked him, then jabbed one claw into his chest. “You— _arrogant_ —” I practically hissed the words through my teeth. I was so overcome with rage I could barely finish a thought, yet just as quickly it dissipated, like a drop swallowed up in an ocean of the most complete satisfaction I’d known in my life. I held my breath in, ready to unleash a torrent of fury on his head, but the words wouldn’t come. I let the breath out in a sigh. “If you’d been wrong, I would have killed you.”

“I’ll say,” he said. “Were you really going to venom-strike me back there?”

“I might have!” I said, but he only chuckled.

“But I wasn’t wrong,” he said. “Once again, I’ve done exactly the _right_ thing to please my queen, only to be scolded for it. Truly I’m the most underappreciated servant in Pyrrhian history. I’ll accept your apology presently.”

“Don’t push it,” I said. I was so blissfully exhausted I wanted to sink into my bedding for the next twelve hours, but there was still something I had to ask. “How did you know I needed that?”

“Hm, how _did_ I know? Could it be that I know you better than you know yourself? Maybe I saw how stressful it is for you trying to keep two tribes under control all the time, and I figured, correctly, that a minute or two of not being in control would come as a relief. Or it could just be that you showed me how much fun it is to be in that position, and I wanted to return the favor.”

In spite of myself, I laughed along with him. “You stupid, brash little dung beetle,” I said. I touched my nose to his, and he wrapped one wing around me. “But even when you’re being a _total_ adder-faced frog-brain, I don’t want you to be anything else.”

“ _I’m_ adder-faced?” he said.

I ignored that and gave him a sly smile. “So is a minute or two really all you can manage? How about next time you give me a show of force I can _respect_?” _And maybe,_ I didn’t add, _if you’re_ very _good, I’ll let you try out the whips._ “But no more surprises, you understand? I’m serious.”

“Understood. One-hundred percent,” he said.

“Good,” I said. “Now get out of here. I’m tired.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” And he strode out of the treehouse and took off.

I turned back inside and walked toward the back, to my sleeping chamber—and I couldn’t help but glance at the claw marks on the floor as I went.


End file.
